Thread of Fear
by ackermanicdepression
Summary: Forensic artist Mikasa Ackerman is the best in the business - which is precisely why she's quitting. Her skill at mining victims' memories to re-create the faces of sadistic criminals has left her haunted and wary, and only Levi Ackerman's dogged persistence convinces her to help him. The skillful police chief is hunting a serial killer who's targeting teenage girls.
1. Prologue

**Adapted by Laura Griffin's "Thread of Fear" (The Glass Sister's #1) and heavily inspired with RivaMika (Levi Ackerman Mikasa Ackerman)**

 **A/N:**

 **This is actually my first time writing a fanfic and I hope that you'll support me all the way. I'll be receiving messages if you want to start a conversation with me. Also, the favourites and reviews will be MUCH appreciated. ¡Gracias! / Maraming Salamat! / Thank you!**

 **Disclaimer: Believe me, I'd be honored to be Laura Griffin and Hajime Isayama at the same time. Too bad, I'm not. I don't own any of their masterpieces, these belong rightfully to them.**

 _ **Prologue**_

 _Forensic artist Mikasa Ackerman is the best in the business -- which is precisely why she's quitting. Her skill at mining victims' memories to re-create the faces of sadistic criminals has left her haunted and wary, and only Levi Ackerman's dogged persistence convinces her to help him. The skillful police chief is hunting a serial killer who's targeting teenage girls. But what seems like a simple assignment is fraught with complications, including a searing attraction to Levi that's tempting Mikasa to let her guard down in potentially dangerous ways._

 _Levi never intended for Mikasa to become so deeply involved in the case -- or in his life. But every instinct tells him she's his best hope for finding a psychopath who's lurking in plain sight, growing more ruthless with each passing day. And now that Mikasa is right in the killer's crosshairs, the only way to keep her safe is to unravel a small town's darkest secrets, one terrifying thread at a time..._

 _ーー_ _ー_ _ー_ _ーー_ _ー_

at _11:25 PM_ **reisshistoria** joined the room

 **reisshistoria** : hey wanna talk?

 **Ze_warchief** : What's up?

 **reisshistoria** : nothing good

 **Ze_warchief** : I've actually been waiting for you. :)

 **reisshistoria** : who's in here?

 **Ze_warchief** : Just us.

 **reisshistoria** : where's Ymir from NYC?

 **Ze_warchief** : I don't know. Why don't you have a picture?

 **reisshistoria** : im getting one soon

 **Ze_warchief** : Good. I bet you're sexy, no? ;)

 **reisshistoria** : lol

 **Ze_warchief** : Seriously, I bet you are. ;)

 **reisshistoria** : lol thx

 **Ze_warchief** : Does your parents let you stay up this late?

 **reisshistoria** : its just my mom and she doesn't care

 **Ze_warchief** : Where's your dad?

 **Ze_warchief** : Are you there?

 **reisshistoria** : he died last year

 **Ze_warchief** : No kidding?

 **reisshistoria** : yea for real

 **Ze_warchief** : How?

 **reisshistoria** : car crash

 **Ze_warchief** : Oh.. I'm terribly sorry for prying.

 **reisshistoria** : my mom said he fell asleep but he was drunk she always lies to me

 **Ze_warchief** : Well, that's just weird...

 **reisshistoria** : huh why?

 **Ze_warchief** : My dad died in a car crash too, last year..

 **reisshistoria** : what? no way???

 **Ze_warchief** : Woah, we really have so much in common. I really want to meet you.

 **reisshistoria** : i want to meet u too..

 **Ze_warchief** : Where do you live?

 **reisshistoria** : mom here GGN!! ttyl

 **Ze_warchief** : Okay, later then. :)

at _11:32 PM_ reisshistoria left the room

 _ーー_ _ー_ _ー_ _ーー_ _ー_

 **A/N:**

 **I promise, I'll try to update whenever I can. I'll do something about it on our semestral break. So, STAY TUNED 8)**


	2. Chapter I

**A/N:**

 **Fuck school, procrastinating is life (is what I'm doing rn as you can see) Since I'm updating the very first chapter tonight—GMT 0:00 A.M.—the next one will probably be for the next two weeks. But I don't know, I don't trust myself ;) YKWIM. But seriously though, our first sem finals will be for the next two weeks as well so I'm probably going to post it on the weekend after that. Hopefully a bunch on Thanksgiving, who knows.**

 **Disclaimer: Believe me, I'd be honored to be Laura Griffin and Hajime Isayama at the same time. Too bad, I'm not. I don't own any of their masterpieces, these belong rightfully to them.**

 **Chapter I**

 _Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport_

 _Wednesday, 4:05 PM_

 _Mikasa Ackerman_ was trained to notice faces, but even if she hadn't been, she would've noticed this one.

The man watching her from across the crowded concourse was a study in contrasts, from his fedora to his slightly growing beard. His hair was sandy brown and the pink tint of his cheeks—that doesn't seem to be there a few moments ago—until now.

His eyes were brown and despite the blush, his eyes were serious and fixed squarely on her.

Mikasa halted outside the arrival gate, creating a pileup of deplaning passengers.

"Sorry," she muttered, tugging her black roll-on bag out of the flow of traffic.

"Miss Ackerman?"

She glanced into the eyes that had been boring a hole in her just moments before.

" _Jean Kirschtein_ , FBI," he said.

A special agent. His charcoal suit, forgettable tie and the peculiar fedora should have been her tip-off. Mikasa draped her coat over her arm and hitched the strap of her attaché case onto her shoulder so she could shake the hand he'd offered.

"I didn't know someone was coming to meet me. I was planning to take a cab."

The side of his mouth ticked up. "Didn't want you to get lost."

"Aren't we going to the police station?"

"Change of plan." He commandeered her suitcase and led her into the river of people, creating a path for her in his wake. He was tall and had an atlethic physique.

He obviously wasn't going to fill her in yet, so Mikasa simply followed him through the concourse. Glancing around at all the harried business travelers, she tucked her remaining strands of hair distracting her front behind her ears and adjusted her lapels.

"We're going to the house," the agent finally explained. "The media wanted fresh sound bites for five o'clock, so there's a press conference scheduled at police headquarters in twenty minutes. Things are quiet at the residence now and we thought it'd be good time to get you out there."

"Okay." Mikasa sighed and mentally adjusted her expectations for the evening. She'd hoped to be thoroughly briefed on the case before she met with the child. She didn't want to go in unprepared. All she knew about this kid was that he was "highly traumatized," which could mean anything.

Less than a minute later, Mikasa stood on the curb beside a white Ford Taurus that had been illegally parked in the passenger-drop-off lane. She slid into the car, discombobulated by the change of plan but grateful to be whisked away from the airport so efficiently.

She fastened her seatbelt and stowed her attaché and coat at her feet. The interior of the Taurus felt warm, meaning Kirschtein couldn't have been waiting long inside the terminal. Mikasa watched the agent behind the wheel.

"Tell me about the case," she said. He turned up the heater and pulled out into the traffic. " _Historia Reiss_. Age 15. Last seen by her brother Monday afternoon."

"And she was taken from her home?"

"Yep. Man came to the front door. Rang the bell we think."

So far he was only repeating what Mikasa already knew from CNN this morning.

"Tell me about the witness," she said.

Kirschtein twisted his body around to retrieve something from the backseat, all the while steering the car onto Interstate 85.

" _Falco Reiss_. Age seven. Was home from school watching _Power Rangers_ in the living room when Historia answered the door." He flipped through the file in his lap, taking his eyes off the road and making Mikasa's heart palpitate. "2nd-grader at the Green Meadows Elementary. Just a few blocks away from his sister's school, Orvud High School."

Kirschtein unclipped something from the manila folder and passed it to Mikasa. It was a color copy of Historia's school photo, the one that had been all over the television this morning. Historia's straight blonde hair hung past her shoulders, and she wore a baby blue and white striped T-shirt that contrasts with her orbs.

"How old is this picture?"

"September, I think."

Four months probably wouldn't make much difference in the teenager's appearance, assuming she hadn't cut or dyed her hair recently. A horn blared as Kirschtein skated across two lanes of traffic. Mikasa glanced over her shoulder.

"Are we late for something?"

"I'm trying to get you to the house while the media's distracted," he said. "No one knows you're here, and we like to keep it that way."

"That's going to be tricky when we release a sketch of the subject tonight."

"That's if we release a sketch. We're not sure the brother saw anything."

Mikasa looked up from the photograph, surprised. "Then why am I here?"

"His beanbag chair was parked in front of the television, not fifteen feet from the front door, but he says he didn't see this guy."

"And why don't you believe him?"

"Because when the mother came home from work, the kid was distraught. Historia was missing, and all he kept saying was, 'I didn't see him.' That's pretty much all he's said for the past two days. No one can get anything else out of him—not his mom, not the cops, not the shrink we brought in. He's freaked out, so we're pretty sure he saw something. That's why we called you."

"What? You think you're up to it?"

She lifted her gaze, and Kirschtein was smiling at her.

"Aw, come on," he said. "You're supposed to be magic with traumatized kids. It's all in your file. You're the rising star in forensic art."

Mikasa pressed her lips together and looked away. "This is my last case. I'm retiring." The car filled with silence as he digested this. She hoped he wouldn't press her on it. She didn't want to explain. All she wanted right now was to do her job and get back on a plane. She glanced over. Kirschtein was eyeing her with amused disbelief.

" _You_ want to retire. You're what, thirty?"

"Twenty-six."

"Wow, I couldn't comprehend as to why you want to retire with that age. You're as abstract as an art Miss Ackerman," Kirschtein uttered with disbelief.

Mikasa doesn't know how to respond to that. She chose to change the subject and ask about the kid's whereabouts and companions as of the moment. Apparently just his mom and grandmother are with him at home. Unfortunately his father died due to drunk-driving about a year ago. Kirschtein suspected that the child was threatened by the man who kidnapped her sister but he was positive that Falco saw the guy's features. Mikasa thought so too. It wasn't a long ride to the destination.

A muffled ringtone of _Marimba_ emanated from the pile near Mikasa's feet, just as soon as they got in front the Reiss' residence. She dragged her case out from beneath her coat and rummaged around until she found her phone. The caller ID showed a Shiganshina area code, the same one that had popped up on the screen three times today. It would be the detective again. He'd left three brief messages, and she'd been putting off calling him back. She needed to get this over with.

"Mikasa Ackerman," she said briskly.

"Mikasa Ackerman. I'm _Levi Ackerman_ with the Shiganshina Police Department." He paused, as if he wanted her to say something, maybe offer an excuse for not returning his calls. She didn't.

"You're a tough lady to get ahold of."

"What can I do for you, _Mr. Ackerman_?" Mikasa's stomach clenched, dreading what he'd say next. They had a murder. An abduction. A serial rapist on the loose ...

"Come to think of it, our identical surname bothers me not just one bit. I grew up in the French branch of the family. And you?"

"German. I don't recall any family branches in France."

"Mother moved there when she carried me. I never knew who my father was, nor his surname."

"Enough, of this familial talk. State your business Mr. Ackerman."

"I didn't take you as a gloomy brat earlier today. Oh well, we've got a homicide down here, and we'd like to get your help." His voice sounded relaxed, with a hint of amusement. This man irked her. But Mikasa sensed something more from him, a steely determination that told her he was going to be a difficult person to refuse.

"I'm sorry I can't help you, Mr. Ackerman, but I'm on another case at the moment." She felt Kirschtein's gaze on her as she said those words. "You'll have to call someone else."

Silence. This was so much harder than she'd expected. She held her breath and prayed he wouldn't tell her about the victim.

"Well, that's just it. There isn't anyone else."

She cleared her throat. "You might try calling _Erwin Smith_ with the Trost Police Department. I'm sure he can recommend—"

"He recommended you."

Mikasa's grip tightened on the phone. She _told_ Erwin she was retiring. What was he trying to do here?

"Ms. Ackerman?" Levi Ackerman's voice jerked her attention away from her thoughts. "You still there?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ackerman. I'm afraid I can't help you."

 **A/N:**

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